


lay down your weary head

by maguna_stxrk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maguna_stxrk/pseuds/maguna_stxrk
Summary: “Hey, have you seen—”“Shhh,” Steve hushes hurriedly, bringing a finger to his pursed lips before nodding at Tony.Sam pauses, taking in the sight before him. Slowly, the corners of his lips begin to climb up into a knowing smirk.“Shut up,” Steve mouths at him.“I didn’t say anything,” Sam protests, his voice low and quiet. The knowing smirk still doesn’t leave his face.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 289





	lay down your weary head

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr as a response to the following dialogue prompt: “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” (from [this list](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/post/619870842557546496/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you))

“My body is in  _ so much pain.”  _

Steve looks up from his paperback to see Tony walking into the living room, a hand reaching back to press at his own shoulder blade, the features of his face scrunched up in discomfort. Steve is not proud of the fact that his first reaction is to become momentarily distracted by Tony’s tanned arms and the way his black tank top rides up just a little bit at the movement, exposing a sliver of skin. 

Tony proceeds to plop down carelessly on the nearest armchair, leaning back and blinking blearily at Steve. Now that Steve is able to get a good look at his face, he sees the alarmingly dark circles under Tony’s eyes. The sight of those combined with Tony’s tousled hair and a small black streak of what Steve suspects is motor oil on the side of his face really should make Tony look unattractive. 

Unfortunately, Steve’s love-addled brain just thinks Tony looks unbearably adorable. 

“How long have you been working?” Steve asks, setting his book aside. 

“I don’t know. A couple hours? There was a lot of heavy lifting.”

“You could have asked for my help.”

“It’s fine.” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “It’s all done anyway. I feel… boneless.” 

“Do you... Well...” Steve shakes his head, determined to get his mouth to cooperate. 

He finds that sometimes he gets ridiculously tongue-tied around Tony.

Tony squints at Steve in his attempt to make out what Steve is trying to say.

“I mean,” Steve tries again, “I could give you a massage?”

For a few seconds that seem to stretch out for hours, Tony just blinks at Steve. Steve feels heat climb up the back of his neck and is about to retract the offer—Tony probably thinks it’s super weird—when Tony sits up, saying:

“That’d be great, actually. You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” 

If only Tony knew just how much Steve does  _ not _ mind.

He turns sideways to throw his legs up on the long couch, spreading them a little so there’s an empty space for Tony to sit on. He pats the spot in front of him. “Come here.”

Tony moves to sit on said spot between Steve’s knees, his back to Steve. 

“Just relax, okay?”

Steve takes a deep breath and begins massaging Tony’s shoulders, trying his best to ease the tension out from the tight knots in his muscles. He digs the heels of his hands into Tony’s shoulder blades, moving them in small circles. Tony groans with his head hung forward, lost in the sensation of Steve’s touch.

“Thank you,” Tony breathes out gratefully and Steve smiles as he moves his thumbs upwards to work on the spots of tension along his neck. He works on that for a while before inching downwards to press on the muscles along his spine with his knuckles. 

No words are exchanged between them for a long moment, Steve quietly kneading at Tony’s muscles and Tony surrendering his back muscles to Steve’s gentle ministrations.

After a while, Steve breaks the silence as he works on Tony’s lower back muscles: “Next time, just call me if you need some help in the workshop, okay? You’re going to end up pulling a muscle one of these days.”

Tony stays silent. Steve stills the movement of his hands, leaning close.

“Tony?”

Tony’s breathing is slow and steady. He gives no indication of having heard anything Steve has said.

As slow as possible so as not to wake him, Steve removes his hands from Tony’s back. Without Steve’s hands propping his body up, Tony’s torso leans backwards until eventually Tony’s head is resting on Steve’s chest, his brown curls tickling Steve’s jaw. Steve knows that with the position he is currently trapped in, his own muscles are going to be screaming in protest sooner or later, but at the moment he can’t bring himself to care. 

Steve is sitting as still as possible, all of his attention focused on the man lying in his arms. This close, he becomes very conscious of every single movement he makes for fear of jostling Tony. As he gazes down at Tony, he feels something soft and delicate stir within him. He is mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of Tony’s chest, the sound of his steady breathing, and how the way Tony’s head is tilted to the side in his slumber allows Steve to feel the soft exhale of his breath on the skin of his forearm. 

He thinks that he couldn’t care less about losing all the feeling in his legs if it meant he could stay like this forever, the man he is in love with safe and sound in his arms, his body a warm weight against Steve. 

The sound of steps approaching the living room breaks Steve’s reverie and he looks up just in time to see Sam appearing at the doorway. 

“Hey, have you seen—”

“Shhh,” Steve hushes hurriedly, bringing a finger to his pursed lips before nodding at Tony. 

Sam pauses, taking in the sight before him. Slowly, the corners of his lips begin to climb up into a knowing smirk. 

“Shut up,” Steve mouths at him. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam protests, his voice low and quiet. The knowing smirk still doesn’t leave his face. 

Steve clenches his jaw, rolling his eyes, even as he feels his cheeks warming up. 

“What do you want?” Steve whispers.

Sam shakes his head, his smirk blooming into a wider grin. “Never mind. Forget about it. Not important.”

Steve scowls at him before going rigid as a statue—eyes wide and breath bated—as Tony stirs slightly in his sleep, his nose nuzzling Steve’s chest. 

When Steve looks up at Sam again, the latter is snickering. Steve frowns. 

“Hopeless. Pathetic,” Sam comments as he crosses his arms, because Sam is a terrible friend who likes to pour salt on Steve’s wounds. “Just ask him out already. I’m getting tired of seeing you guys do this… this  _ mating dance  _ around each other.” Sam waves his hands around in an approximation of whatever the mating dance is supposed to look like. 

Steve makes a face. He looks down, feeling something lurch in his chest when he sees that Tony’s head is resting right above his heart. Taking a deep breath, he watches as Tony’s head rises and falls along with his own chest. 

He looks up to meet Sam’s eyes. “He doesn’t feel the same way, Sam.”

Sam gives him an unimpressed look, nodding pointedly at Tony sleeping on top of Steve. 

Steve shakes his head. “He was just tired.”

“Because Stark just goes around the Tower, sleeping in anyone and everyone’s arms whenever he feels tired,” Sam deadpans as he pushes himself off of the wall he has been leaning on. “You still up for sparring later at seven?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. See you later.” Sam turns to head back into the hallway leading to the elevator. Steve watches him go and just when he thinks Sam has left, the man appears at the doorway once again.

“Oh, and Steve?”

Steve stares at him questioningly.

“Just to really drive my point home. This?” He gestures at Steve and Tony’s situation on the couch. 

“Pa-the-tic,” Sam mouths, emphasizing each syllable, and leaves before Steve can say anything in response. 

Steve sighs, looking down at Tony and reaching out tentatively to let the tips of his fingers brush against the soft tufts of Tony’s hair. That is all the luxury he allows himself to indulge in before letting his arm fall back at his side. He swallows around a lump in his throat, closing his eyes.

Sam doesn’t know what he is talking about.

Surely Steve would be the first person to notice if Tony _did_ feel the same way. 

Just before he falls asleep, Steve thinks that he feels the faint touch of someone interlacing their fingers with his. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@maguna-stxrk](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/) and let's talk all things stevetony! :)


End file.
